Dragon Age: Tale of Two Wardens
by Darthnemesis2
Summary: The story of new Grey Warden recruits Troy Cousland and Sam Mahariel, and the rest of the 'Origins' crew, as they seek to unite the land of Ferelden against the dark threat of the Blight. Generally follows the story of the game but with a few twists.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Duty

Barking dogs. Always the first sound Troy Cousland heard when he awoke. He groaned as he turned over in his bed, trying desperately to block out the noise of the damned beasts. Of course it was useless, the mabari, more specifically _his_ mabari – Dane – would not stop barking until he fed them. Resigned to his fate, Troy rolled out of bed and put on some pants. He didn't bother with a shirt, it was warm enough today that he would only need to be properly dressed when Arl Howe's contingent arrived around noon. He exited his room and headed downstairs to where the mabari pens were kept. His family often jokingly mocked him for being the one who fed the mabari – a servant's job, they called it. However, as much as he acted as though he didn't care for the animals, there was no way he was letting anyone besides himself feed Dane. That, and the fact that Dane would not let any of the servants near him or his food. Naturally, with Dane being the alpha male of the pack, the other mabari followed his example.

As he descended the stairs Troy looked back on the events of the last week. A missive had arrived four days ago bearing the Mark of the Crown calling Troy's father, the Teyrn of Highever, to assemble his forces to battle darkspawn – of all things – near the ruins of Ostagar in the south. This, of course, caused the castle to erupt into a flurry of action. Messengers were sent to the Arlings and Bannorns under Highever's command, demanding that they assemble their armies and prepare to march to the King's aid. Most of the Bannorns had sent what soldiers they could the day before, but the Arling of Amaranthine – Arl Howe's land, which held a significantly larger number of soldiers than the other Bannorns – had taken longer to assemble. Howe's forces would be arriving today and would be marching out with Highever's soldiers that afternoon.

Troy looked forward to proving himself in battle alongside his father and brother, both of whom had already shown they were excellent commanders and tacticians. His father had fought side by side with King Maric during the revolution that reclaimed Ferelden from the Orlesians three decades ago, while his brother Fergus had been in command of the his own battalion for the last five years. Troy was only nineteen years old and, while he had been trained to fight and lead soldiers from an early age, he had never been in a real battle or war. He hoped his training would be enough at Ostagar, but pushed such thoughts away as he entered the mabari pen.

"You're not going to starve anytime soon, you know?" he said to Dane as the great hound continued to bark. "I bet you could live for a whole week without a single morsel of food and still rip the head off of an Orlesian Chevalier."

Dane seemed to take that as a compliment and began to run around in quick circles barking happily.

"Alright, come here you fat thing," Troy laughed and took the dogs out to feed them before passing them off to the handlers who would make sure they were exercised and ready to head out with the rest of the army.

Troy, on the other hand, headed back for his room, hoping to catch another hour or so of sleep before he had to get ready. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs he knew he would have no such luck.

"Oh, there you are sweetie," Said his mother, Teyrna Eleanor Cousland, as she approached. "Put some clothes on dear, you can't have servants seeing you in your smallclothes if you're going to be in charge while your father and brother are away!"

"Wait, what!" Troy's heart stopped. He knew he'd heard her wrong. "You think I'm staying here while father and Fergus have all the fun at Ostagar?"

"Yes, and don't even think of asking your father to try and convince me otherwise, he's been trying since I told him you were staying yesterday."

"But... you can't just decide to make me stay!" Troy had never been more furious at his mother. What made her think he would ever agree to stay at the castle while his brother and father fought for the safety of Ferelden?

"That's where you're wrong my son. I can and I did. Someone has to stay behind and command the castle while they are away."

"You're perfectly capable of doing that yourself!" Troy replied, trying desperately to think of something, anything, he could say to change her mind. He knew that it was useless, but he was going to give it his best shot.

"I could, but you must stay behind in case the worst should happen to Bryce or Fergus," Eleanor said, trying to hide from her son the fact that she believed that was a real possibility, "And besides, the experience will do you good."

"But-" Troy took one look at his mother's expression and any thought of disagreeing died on the spot. She looked so worried, yet at the same time resolute. "Yes mother."

"It's best this way sweetie. I know you want to go with your father, but your duty lies here."

"Right, duty first," Troy responded sarcastically, walking into his bedroom and slamming the door.

Troy punched the thick wooden door as it closed – a childish form of defiance that left him with nothing more than a sore hand. He sighed and turned to the mirror in the corner of the room. The sight that greeted him was a very familiar one, but as he stared at the mirror he tried to figure out why his mother had decided to leave him behind. He stood at about average height, around five foot nine inches, and weighed around 160 pounds. His brown hair was cut short, almost to the point of looking bald. He had let his beard grow to the point where it was just stubble all around, but kept it as short as his hair. Seeing nothing in the reflection of the mirror he turned around began to get dressed. Feeling decidedly un-royal at the moment, he left his more noble garments in the wardrobe and instead put on his leather armor. A little defiance never hurt anyone, and if he had to stay here and rule he may as well be comfortable doing it. He even went so far as to grab several of his knives and slip them into the many sheaths sewn into the tight fitting pants and jacket. Finally he grabbed his sword and slipped it into the sheath on his back and left his room.

Breakfast was a quick affair, Troy had no desire to get into an argument with his parents and knew himself well enough to know that he would inevitably turn any conversation towards the fact he was being left behind. After breakfast he roamed the castle, looking for something to do until Arl Howe's men arrived. As it happened it was at exactly that time a messenger from the gatehouse arrived.

'Its a bit early for Howe's contingent,' Troy thought as the man approached. 'And surely they would have been admitted on sight. This could be interesting.'

"My Lord," the messenger began upon seeing Troy. "There is a traveler at the gate, well armed. Claims to be a Grey Warden."

"Why hasn't he been admitted?" Troy asked, taking out some of his anger on the poor man.

"The Teyrn ordered that no one should be allowed inside the castle without permission, your Grace."

"The man is a Grey Warden, soldier, let him in," Troy replied, and turned away before thinking it over. "Actually, I'll go with you and greet this Grey Warden myself."

'A Warden, here, I wonder why?' Troy thought as he led the way to the main gate of the castle. 'Maybe he wants to recruit some of our soldiers for his order? I know there are only a few here in Ferelden. And if there really are darkspawn at Ostagar, he'll need Wardens now more than ever.' These thoughts continued to circle through Troy's head until they arrived at the gate.

"Open the gate, Captain!" He barked.

Troy heard the portcullis raising before the main doors opened and revealed a single man standing there. His dark skin was the first thing Troy noticed about him, much darker than the average Fereldan's – possibly the man was Rivaini. He had short hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was dressed in expensive looking armor, and had two blades strapped to his back. He carried himself with the aura of one who was used to being in charge, he radiated confidence. With just as much confidence, Troy walked up to the man and introduced himself.

"Welcome to Highever Castle, Grey Warden. I am Troy Cousland, my father is Teyrn of this land." The man accepted Troy's outstretched hand and shook it.

"Duncan, Commander of the Grey Wardens here in Ferelden. I must say, I was not expecting to be greeted by the Nobility at the gate, your Grace."

Troy motioned for Duncan to follow and began to walk towards the main hall. "In all honesty, Duncan, I was looking for something to do until Arl Howe's men arrived. When the guardsmen told me there was a Grey Warden at the gate I decided it was worth my time to greet you in person."

"I know the King will appreciate the soldiers your father is sending to Ostagar. I fear there are more darkspawn in the forests than he will be able to deal with. Will you be leading the army?" Duncan asked, gesturing towards Troy's armed and armored form.

"No, Father will be leading his forces, along with my older brother Fergus," Troy responded dejectedly.

"Ah. And you have been given the enviable task of keeping the castle safe, yes?"

"Unenviable if you ask me..."

"Believe me, young Cousland, there is nothing to envy about facing the darkspawn..." He paused, and looked at Troy for a few seconds as if studying him. He shook his head slightly before continuing on.

'What was that about?' Troy thought as they entered the main hall. The thought never crossed his mind that Duncan might be considering him for the Grey Wardens.

They entered the main hall and Troy led Duncan towards the throne, where the Teyrn was talking with one of his advisers, likely ensuring everything would be ready for when Arl Howe arrived.

"Father, we have a visitor," Troy announced as he approached the Teyrn. "Allow me to introduce Duncan, Commander of Ferelden's Grey Wardens."

"And what brings the Commander of the Grey to Highever on the eve of our departure to Ostagar?" Bryce asked suspiciously.

"Recruitment, your Grace," Duncan began. "There are too few Wardens in Ferelden, and if this should turn out to be a true Blight we will need more. I have heard many tales of the bravery, honor and courage of Highever's soldiers and wished to see for myself if the legends held true."

"You will find no better soldiers of all of Thedas, Duncan," Bryce replied, still wary of the Warden's motivations. He knew Duncan had come with other Orlesian Wardens when Maric had first allowed the Order back into Ferelden years ago. Having fought against Orlais himself, Bryce still held a deep-rooted distrust of any Orlesian. "Perhaps one of my men can escort you to one of our guest rooms? You must be tired after your journey here."

Neither Troy nor Duncan missed the insinuation that Duncan would be monitored during his stay at Highever Castle. Troy couldn't believe his father would act this way towards someone as distinguished as the Commander of the Grey. Duncan, however, appeared unfazed by the Teyrn's comment, and indeed, took it in stride.

"Of course, your Grace. If its not too much trouble, I'd prefer a room that overlooks your training ground."

"That can be arranged," Bryce said coolly before gesturing to a nearby guard.

The guard led Duncan out of the hall towards the guest wing. As soon as they were out of earshot Troy rounded on his father.

"What in the name of the Maker was that about?" Troy demanded. "That was the Commander of the Grey and you treated him like some common criminal!"

"I need to know his loyalties lie with Ferelden's best interests, and not those of the Empress of Orlais. It would be a great honor to have one of our house chosen to join the Wardens, but I won't have any soldier of mine placed under the command of one who may have ties to Orlais."

"I – I hadn't considered that," Troy paused, digesting what his father had said. "But everything I've ever read and learned about Wardens suggests they fight the Blight no matter where they are from. And he seems like a trustworthy man."

"From what I've heard of the man he is dedicated to his order, however he has asked for legions of chevaliers from Orlais to help battle the Blight. Who's to say they will go back once they have gained access to our country again?"

"Perhaps you have a point." Troy replied, still unconvinced. He turned around and left the hall.

Even as Duncan watched the soldiers of Highever castle train in the courtyard below, he couldn't help but have his attention drawn back to the young noble who had greeted him at the gate. The man had carried himself as someone of his rank should: he had the confidence to lead men, his stance betrayed his years of training in the martial arts. But there was something more. Something about the man suggested to Duncan he was not a front line warrior, but more adept at leading a small scouting band or flanking unit, perfect for what would be needed to defeat the Blight before it truly began. Even though the noble, Troy was it? – a strange name, was exactly what Duncan had come to Highever to find, he knew the Teyrn would never allow it. Despite the fact that Troy was not the heir to the throne Duncan knew most nobles would not willingly give up their children to his Order, and feared Bryce Cousland would be no different. He would need to be cunning if he was going to have any shot of convincing the Teyrn to allow his son to be recruited. Loud fanfare broke into his thoughts.

Arl Howe arrived right on time. Troy watched from the top of the main gatehouse as a very small contingent of soldiers escorted the Arl's caravan up to the castle. Troy scanned the road but saw no sign of the rest of Howe's army.

"Open the gate!" Troy called as the Arl's vanguard approached. The gates began to open as Troy descended the stairs to greet the Arl. He looked the honor guard over and sent a messenger off to inform his father of Howe's arrival before turning to face the oncoming caravan. It stopped after crossing the threshold of the castle and its escorts snapped to attention as Troy closed the distance. The Arl disembarked and greeted Troy.

"Your Grace, I'm afraid I have some troubling news to deliver to your father," Howe began.

"He has been informed that you arrive without the Amaranthine Army at your back," Troy responded coolly. If there was one thing he had no patience for it was the way certain Nobles tried to make light of their responsibilities and disregard their duties to the Teyrn. Howe had been allowed an extra day to prepare due to the fact that he was good friends with Troy's father, and for him to squander that gift made Troy's blood boil.

"With good reason, your Grace."

"Tell it to the Teyrn," Troy replied before turning his back on Arl Howe and storming off, leaving the honor guard to escort Howe the rest of the way to the main hall.

Once Troy had taken a few minutes to collect himself, he made his way to the main hall. His father and Howe were laughing and making jokes like old times – as if Howe hadn't just arrived empty handed. Taking and extra second to push those thoughts to the back of his mind, Troy walked over to where the two men were standing.

"Ah, pup, there you are." His father said as Troy approached. "Howe, you remember my son?"

"I see he's grown into a fine young man," Came the Arl's response, clearly attempting to make amends with Troy in some way. Either that or he was just trying to suck up to the Teyrn, which Troy wouldn't put past him. "My daughter, Delilah, asked after you. Perhaps I should bring her next time?"

'Maker, not this _again,_' Troy sighed to himself. 'How many times is he going to bring that up?'

To Howe he replied, "Uh, she's quite a bit younger than me."

"Ah, but once you get to be our age," Howe gestured to Troy's father and himself, "the years matter less."

'It really isn't the age that bothers me, Lord Howe,' Troy said to himself sarcastically. 'Its the whole "her being a girl" thing that's holding this relationship back.' While Troy had never come out and said it to anyone, he knew there were stories spread all across the Teyrnir of how he had shamelessly hit on a young, and male, noble at a gathering of the bannorn a couple years ago. He had thought that the fact he never denied these stories would have been a good sign that they was true, but, alas, some people never could take a hint. So he let the subject drop as his father began speaking again.

"At any rate pup, I'm glad you're here. While your brother and I are away, I am leaving you in charge of the castle."

"I know, mother told me this morning." Troy said, hoping to try to convince his father otherwise. "And I was-"

"Not a chance," His father replied before Troy could even finish his sentence. "Your mother and I talked about this at length, and as proud as I would be to have you serve at my side, your mother will not allow it. There will only be a token force remaining, and you must keep order while we are away. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"

Troy was about to argue the point, but thought better of it since not only was Howe standing right there, but so were a dozen or so guards. "Of course father."

A messenger walked up at that time and whispered something the Teyrn's ear. "Yes, let him in." Troy heard his father mumble and the guard walked over to a side door, and opened it. Duncan stepped through and approached the group of nobles.

"It is an honor to be a guest in your halls, Teyrn Cousland," Duncan spoke. Troy could tell the man was buttering his father up, but to what end?

"Your Lordship! You didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present." The Arl's reaction seemed very out of place, almost as if he were afraid of having a Grey Warden in the castle.

"Duncan just arrived, unannounced. Is there a problem?"

"Of course not! But a guest of this stature demands a certain protocol, I am... at a disadvantage." The way Howe said disadvantage made Troy's skin crawl, but he couldn't explain why.

"It is true, we rarely have the pleasure of seeing Wardens in person," Bryce replied, "Without their warning, half the nation might have been overrun before we had a chance to react. How goes the search for recruits, Duncan? See anyone who's taken your eye?"

"If I may be so bold, I would say your son, here, is an excellent candidate." Duncan replied.

"Honor though that might be, this is one of my sons we're talking about here."

"Hold on, father," Troy began, "I actually think that would be an excellent idea."

"I will not allow it, so unless you intend on invoking the right of conscription-"

"Have no fear," Duncan cut him off. "While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I have no intention of forcing the issue."

"Good." Bryce Cousland's eyes burned for a split second before turning to Troy. "Go find Fergus, tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me. He's probably in his room, saying his goodbyes to Oriana and my grandson."

'This day couldn't get any worse,' Troy fumed mentally. 'Its not enough that my paranoid mother is convinced that I'll get myself killed if I leave the castle, but my father not only agrees, but also lets his hatred and suspicion of Orlesians kill any chance I had of joining Duncan's Wardens!' Troy walked towards the main keep, where his brother was likely located. Just outside the main door, he found his mother talking to Lady Landra, as well as Landra's lady in waiting and... oh no, her son, Dairren, the noble who Troy had been futilely hitting on two years before.

"Hi honey," His mother greeted him as he attempted to slip past. "You remember Lady Landra, yes?"

"Of course, Lady Landra, so good to see you again," Troy gave his best performance, trying to appear as though he genuinely cared when all he wanted to do was get away before Dairren recognized him. "If you'll excuse me-"

"And I'm sure you remember her son Dairren?" His mother gestured towards the man.

Troy turned, hoping Dairren wouldn't hate him for what had happened. "Yes, how could I forget?"

"Still as cute as ever I see," Dairren muttered under his breath as he shook Troy's hand.

"I... wha..." Troy was so confused. Despite the fact he had been quote drunk at the time, he was almost certain Dairren had not been receptive to his advances. Now he was getting complimented about how 'cute' he was? But before he could say anything else the conversation had moved on around him.

"And this is Iona, my lady in waiting," Landra was saying.

"How do you do?" Troy asked turning to the elven maid.

"Fine milord," She shyly replied. Of course Lady Landra didn't miss it and had to comment. Troy tuned her out as he continued to ponder what Dairren had said. He barely registered Dairren saying he and Iona would be retiring to the study for a bit until dinner. Troy managed to slip away from his mother and Lady Landra and follow them several minutes later. He found Dairren examining some of the older books in the back corner of the study.

"We need to talk..." Troy began, not entirely sure what he was going to say next.

"I'm sorry if my comment was inappropriate, your Grace." Dairren was very cute when he was nervous, Troy thought. "But you seemed interested before and I-"

"I found it _very_ appropriate, Dairren," Troy cut him off. "I just wish you had said something earlier."

"I wasn't ready back then, but recently... things have changed."

"I think I like where this is headed, Dairren, perhaps we can get to know each other a bit better over the next few weeks? I'm being left in charge of the castle and would love to have some company."

"I would rather enjoy that, however I will be serving your father as a squire when he leaves for Ostagar tomorrow." Dairren seemed to genuinely regret the time they wouldn't be spending together.

"Then perhaps we should get started, hmm?" Troy raised his eyebrow suggestively.

"While I find the suggestion appealing, our mothers are expecting us for dinner. Perhaps afterwords... once everyone has retired to their rooms, we can get to know each other more... intimately, if that is what you are suggesting."

"I'll be waiting." Troy could hardly contain his excitement as he left the study and headed for the main keep.

Troy awoke suddenly to the sound of Dane whining. He felt Dairren shift next to him in the bed, before he got up and went over to the hound.

"Wha's goin on?" Troy asked groggily. They had only been asleep for a few hours, judging by the position of the moon outside Troy's window. It was little over an hour before dawn.

"I don't know, your mabari just started whining a couple minutes ago. I hoped he would go back to sleep, but something seems to be bothering him."

"He probably just misses the rest of the pack." Troy sat up, looking around. He knew it was probably nothing, just Dane wondering where the rest of the hounds had gone, but wanted to check it out anyway.

"No, there's something outside. I can hear voices. I'm going to check it out."

Dairren opened the door a crack before it was kicked into him. He stumbled back from the force of the impact. The next thing Troy knew there was an arrowhead sticking out from the back of Dairren's head and he slumped to the ground. Dane charged out of the room howling. Troy grabbed two daggers and a knife off the bedside table and leaped from the bed. He saw the archer take aim at Dane and threw his knife. The point pierced the other man's eye and buried itself in his brain, killing him instantly. Dane had one of the intruders pinned to the ground, but another was closing the distance and about to bring his axe down on the hound. Troy hurled himself at the man and sank one of his daggers deep into the man's back. His other hand came over the man's shoulder and plunged the other dagger down into his throat, just above the collar the leather armor he wore. The blade was angled downward and entered the chest cavity where it tore into several internal organs. He then planted his foot firmly on the man's back and pulled both blades free, shooting a shower of blood everywhere while he pushed with his foot sending him careening into the wall. Troy looked around for any other targets, but saw no one in the area. He noticed the unlucky bastard Dane had tackled was missing his throat.

The door to his parents' bedroom suddenly burst open and his mother came rushing out with her bow drawn. Seeing no threat she put it away and ran over to where Troy was standing, breathing heavily in nothing more than his smallclothes.

"Darling! I heard fighting outside a feared the worst, are you alright?" She looked at the blood that had splattered across Troy's neck and chest.

"I'm fine... Dairren. He – he's dead," Troy stared back at the unmoving form in the doorway to his room, but shook his head. He couldn't let shock or sorrow take over. There would be time for grief later. Now, there was only vengeance. These men bore Howe's crest on their shields. "Mother, look at their shields."

"Those are Howe's men, why would they attack us?"

"He said his men were delayed, knowing father would send Fergus ahead with our forces. Bastard! He planned this, there's no other explanation."

"If Howe is behind this, I'll cut his lying throat myself. Have you seen your father? He never came to bed." She was worried, more worried than Troy had ever seen her.

"We have to get out of here, if he's still alive he'll be at the gate. We need to get there and defend the castle." Troy turned from his mother, and what he saw made his blood run cold. He hadn't noticed the door to his brother's room was open until that moment. Howe's men hadn't come to his room first. He gasped, "Oh no..."

"Maker!" His mother's eyes had followed his. They approached the door in silence, neither holding out any hope of finding anyone alive. Troy hesitantly pushed the door open and was accosted by a horrific sight. What he saw was something he would never speak of again, his sister-in-law and nephew, butchered in cold blood, betrayed by Howe. He grabbed his mother by the shoulders and pulled her out of the room.

"We can't think of them now," He looked her straight in the eyes, "They need us to be strong, to avenge them and the rest of the men and women who have died by Howe's treachery." His words came out sounding hollow, as he himself was struggling with what was going on. Half his family was now dead or missing, and his forces were severely outnumbered. The likelihood of him seeing the dawn was slim to none, but Howe would not kill him without one hell of a fight.

Troy threw his armor on as quickly as he could, collected his weapons and mentally prepared for what was about to happen. He looked at his mother again, nodded, and kicked in the door to the main room on the floor.

What happened next passed in a haze of blood, screams, blades and death. A seemingly endless supply of Howe's men were slaughtered between the keep and the main hall as Troy, his mother, Dane, and the few guards they could rally fought their way to the gate. When they reached the main hall, Troy truly realized the scope of the battle. Highever's soldiers were outnumbered three to one, but holding the line. Troy let out a bloodcurdling scream as his group charged Howe's line. Without thinking he parried, blocked, dodged and slashed his way through the enemy, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He lost his off-hand dagger at some point and drew one of his knives to replace it. A wide blow aimed for his head was easily deflected with his sword, and his right hand came around and sank the knife into his assailant's temple. A blast of magic flew past him from the right and he spun, pulling the knife from the skull and launching it at the enemy mage. The blade pierced the mage's jugular, dropping him to his knees as he clutched at his throat uselessly. Troy turned again, expecting another attack to come, but the room was silent. Howe's men had all been killed or incapacitated. His men moved to hold the door, while his mother talked with Ser Gilmore.

"He's waiting for you at the servant's entrance in the larder." Gilmore was saying as Troy came over.

"Then that's where you need to go, mother," Troy spoke, with far more confidence than he felt. "Gilmore and I will hold the castle, you and father need to get out, warn Fergus."

"Don't be ridiculous, my Lord," Gilmore replied, "Both of you are getting out of here. My duty is to make sure you get out of here safely. We will hold off these traitorous bastards as long as we can, you two just go, get out of here!"

Troy placed his hand on Gilmore's shoulder, looked at him for a second, nodded and turned away. Duty... the word tasted like poison in his mouth. He hated it. Hated leaving his friends to die while he was forced to live. Hated being coddled because of his heritage. But most of all, he hated Arl Rendon Howe. As he walked out on his friends and comrades, Troy made a silent vow to escape... to live so that their sacrifice would mean something. And when he had a chance, any chance, to kill Howe, he would take it. Revenge for every man, woman and child who died this night.

After a short detour to the armory to collect several Cousland heirlooms, Troy and his mother arrived at the larder. Bodies were scattered everywhere, most of them bore Howe's colors but several of his father's elite guard lay dead as well. Bryce Cousland, bleeding profusely from multiple stab wounds, was laying near the servant's entrance. Troy feared the worst, but his father looked up when he heard footsteps.

"There... you both are," He gasped upon seeing them. "I was... wondering when you would get here..."

"Bryce!" Eleanor cried as she rushed to his side. "Maker's blood, what's happening? You're bleeding!"

"Arl's men... found me first. Almost... did me in right there." Bryce was struggling to get the words out.

"Shh, father, don't speak."

"Howe... he can't get away with this. The king..." He was in so much pain he couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Bryce, we have to get you out of here." His mother tried pulling on his arm to get him to stand, but he wouldn't move.

"I... I won't survive the standing, I think."

"Once Howe's men break through the gates they'll find us. We must go." Eleanor pleaded with her husband.

"Someone... must reach Fergus, tell him what has happened."

"And take vengeance," Troy's voice sounded unnaturally calm, cold. He didn't even recognize himself.

"Yes... vengeance."

"Bryce, no. The servant's entrance is right here. We can escape, find healing magic..."

"The castle is surrounded... I cannot make it."

"I'm afraid the Teyrn is correct," The voice caused Troy to jump. He began to draw his blade before he realized it was Duncan, and that Duncan was putting his weapon away. "Howe's men haven't found this exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult."

"You are Duncan? The Grey Warden?" Eleanor asked clearly as surprised as Troy to see him there.

"Yes, your Ladyship. The Teyrn and I tried to reach you sooner."

"Troy helped me get here. Maker be praised."

"I am not surprised," Duncan replied. He looked over at Troy.

"Thank you for saving with my father," Troy answered. He could read Duncan like a book in some ways, and knew he was going to ask a large favor in return.

"I'm afraid your thanks is premature. I doubt I have saved him."

"Whatever we do we must decide quickly, they are coming!" Eleanor said as they heard the sound of the main gate finally giving way.

"Duncan, you are under no obligation to me, but please... get my wife and son to safety." Bryce was begging with his last breath.

"I will, you Lordship. But... I fear I must ask for something in return." Troy knew what it would be before Duncan even finished the thought.

"Anything!"

"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil that is loose in the world. I came here looking for a recruit, the darkspawn threat demands I leave with one." Heartless, but effective. Troy respected the Warden for having the courage to ask such a thing of a dying man.

"I... understand."

"I will take the Teyrna and your son to Ostagar to tell Fergus and the King what happened," He paused before continuing, "Then, your son joins the Grey Wardens."

"So long as justice comes to Howe... I agree."

"Then I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens," Duncan said as he turned to Troy. "Fight with us."

"So long as I am able to live and avenge those that died here, I accept," Troy replied somberly.

"We must leave quickly then." Duncan stood and headed for the exit.

"Bryce... are you... sure?"

"Our son will not die by Howe's treachery. He will live and make his mark on the world."

"Darling," Eleanor looked up from her dying husband and into Troy's eyes, "Go with Duncan. You have a better chance to escape without me."

"Eleanor..."

"Hush Bryce. I'll kill every bastard who comes through that door to buy them time." Her face was set with grim determination, but softened as she looked down at him. "But I won't abandon you."

"Mother, you can't..."

"My place is with your father, to death and beyond." She pulled Bryce's bloodstained form close.

"Go... pup. Warn your brother. You know we love you both. You do us proud."

"They've broken through, we must go." Duncan said from the doorway. He walked over and pulled Troy away from his parents.

"Goodbye, darling." Eleanor's eyes glistened, but she held back the tears. Her face was set as she turned to face the main door of the larder. The picture of a noble dying a noble's death.

And so his old life ended in flames. Burned down by the greed of one man. The blazing inferno that engulfed the main hall mirrored the fire in Troy's soul. Grief mingled with rage, sorrow became vengeance, and yet somehow he knew it was only the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Corruption

Five days. Surely that was some sort of record for walking across the entire length of Ferelden. Duncan had set a hard pace, something for which Troy was exceptionally grateful. The hard travel over rough terrain kept his mind focused. Duncan preferred to travel in silence, which was fine by Troy – he really didn't have anything to say anyway. Any time his mind did start to wonder though, he asked Duncan questions about the Grey Wardens; what kind of training he would have to go through, what would be expected of him at Ostagar, what happened afterwords? Duncan was always willing to answer the questions asked, even if the answers were cryptic at times. Dane was also unusually quiet, perhaps sensing Troy's mood. By mid-morning on the fifth day they had arrived at the Brecilian Forest.

"We have arrived at last," Duncan spoke for the first time that day. "I have one stop to make before we continue on to Ostagar. There is a Dalish camp nearby, the Keeper – clan leader – Marethari, and I are friends."

"And you would recruit from the Dalish?" Troy had heard stories of the Dalish as a child. Fierce warriors, and possibly the best archers in all of Thedas. But they were also said to be brutal savages, scouring the countryside for anything they could take from humans. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"As I said, the Keeper and I are friends. And the Dalish have always been supportive of the Wardens. In fact Garahel, the Warden who slew the Archdemon, Andoral, at the Battle of Ayesleigh to end the last Blight was Dalish." Duncan moved deeper into the forest, Troy could only assume he knew where he was going.

* * *

"Shh, I heard something," Tamlen held his hand up, stopping Sam in his tracks. Now that Tamlen mentioned it, he could hear the sounds of running feet... clumsy shemlen feet.

"Three shems by the sound of it," Sam replied, "In a hurry. Frightened, but then, when isn't a shem scared of something?" He smirked at that.

"They're headed this way." Before he had even finished talking, Tamlen moved towards the path, drawing his bow as he went.

Sam hung back, covering Tamlen in case of an ambush. Not that he felt these shems were capable of such a thing, but better safe than sorry. Suddenly three shems broke through the foliage at a dead sprint. The first saw Tamlen standing there bow drawn, arrow pointed at his throat, and slid to a stop at his feet. The others quickly followed suit, tripping over each other in their haste.

"Whoa, it's a Dalish!" The first said, still on the ground.

"And you three are somewhere you shouldn't be," Tamlen said threateningly. He eyed all three, likely reaching the same conclusion Sam had; they were unarmed farmers, probably lost in the woods and scared by a bear or some such creature of the forest.

"Let us pass, _elf_, you have no right to stop us!" So the shem thought he would tell Tamlen what to do, Sam knew that would not go over well at all. He came out of the underbrush, his own bow drawn on the shems.

"No?" Tamlen asked mockingly. "We shall see about that."

"Please don't hurt us!" The sight of a second Dalish quickly changed the aggressive shems attitude into one of fear.

"You shemlen are pathetic," Tamlen began to advance on the three, "It's hard to believe you drove us from our home."

"We've never done nothing to you Dalish," Spoke the third shem. "We didn't even know this forest was yours."

"This forest isn't ours fool, but you've stumbled too close to our camp. You shems are like vermin, we can't trust you not to make mischief."

"Look, we didn't come here to make trouble," The first shem spoke again. "We just found a cave."

"Yes!" The angry shem spoke up again. "A cave with ruins like I've never seen. We thought there might be... eh..."

"Treasure?" Tamlen interrupted. "So you're more akin to thieves than actual bandits."

"Liar," Sam spoke up for the first time. "There are no such ruins."

"I have proof!" The angry shem practically screamed. "Look!" He handed Tamlen a small rock with strange carvings on it.

"Is... is this Elvish?" Tamlen demanded. "Written Elvish?"

"There's more in the ruins, but we didn't get very far..."

"Why not?" Sam also recognized the symbols carved on the stone, he'd seen them in the Keeper's scrolls. "What else was in that cave. What scared you so much that you ran without thinking, ran deeper into the forest?"

"A DEMON! Huge, with black eyes!"

"Ha! A demon," Tamlen scoffed at the idea. "Where is this cave?"

"Off to the west, I think. There's a cave in the rock face, with a hole just inside."

"What do you think, Lethallin? Do you trust them? Shall we let them go?"

"So they can go back to their village and gather an army to drive us out? No. Kill them," Sam replied coldly as he sighted in on the nearest shem. He released the arrow and had another notched before the shem had hit the ground. The other two turned and tried to run, but each caught an arrow in his back.

"Well, shall we see if there is any truth to their story?" Tamlen asked as though nothing had happened. "These carvings make me curious."

"Let's go, before these," Sam gestured towards the bodies of the dead humans, "Start to stink any more than they already do."

Sam Mahariel returned his bow to his quiver as he surveyed the shemlen who lay dead before him. While he had grown up amid the fears and hatred his people held toward the shems, for him the pain they had caused was far more personal. He had grown up an orphan, raised by his father's clan after human bandits had killed his father and left his mother for dead before his was born. He never had a chance to know his parents, so there was nothing to miss, but somehow that had always made the loss that much greater.

It dawned on him as he turned away from the lifeless bodies that he may have just left three human families without a father, husband, brother, or son. 'So the circle of nature turns,' he thought grimly, 'it's no wonder we can't get along with one another.'

He and Tamlen traveled in relative silence until they got to the cave the humans had described. They descended into the ruins and began to look around. It appeared the shems had been correct, there were certainly signs of elven artifacts scattered around, but also a lot of human architecture. Sam got an uneasy feeling, something about this place made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He pulled his Dal'Thanaan battleaxe off his back, and heard Tamlen draw his Dar'Misaan longsword and shield behind him.

He cautiously edged forward until "Arrghh!" He had walked into a large spider web. Not unsurprising, considering how old the ruins were, but when he realized how big the actual web was his breath caught in his chest. "Tamlen," He whispered, "Don't move."

"What?" Tamlen froze on the spot, scanning the room.

Suddenly Sam was aware of the sounds he had not noticed before. Clicking, scrabbling, nasty wet sounds he couldn't even describe. He only knew of one creature that made those kinds of noises.

"I don't want to scare you," He began looking around in the dim light, seeing the glint of many eyes in the corners of the room, "But we just walked into a giant spider nest."

Just then the shadows melted into the forms of three of the oversized arachnids. Two came at Tamlen while the third went for Sam. Sam swung in a large horizontal arc, severing two of the spider's legs as it closed in. It scrabbled backward as Sam brought the down the Dal'Thanaan in a vertical smash. He caught it in the center of its 'head', but the legs spasmed for a few seconds before is stopped moving. Behind him, Tamlen was fending off one spider with his shield, while slicing at the other with his Dar'Misaan. Sam took another sweeping blow, sending the spider sprawling in a cascade of blood. Tamlen used the opportunity to bury his blade into the thorax of the spider still attacking his shield. It stumbled around before curling up into a ball. Tamlen stabbed it again to make sure it wouldn't get up again.

"By the Creators!" Tamlen swore. "I didn't know spiders could grow so large."

"They can," Sam replied nervously, "But I've never heard of it happening to surface spiders. In the lands of the Durgen'len, where the darkspawn taint has been spread, the spiders are said to get very large. Perhaps these ruins reach down that far."

"In any case, let us see if there is anything else in these ruins," Tamlen responded eagerly. "If we don't find anything at least we can warm the clan to avoid these caves."

They continued further into the caves. The darkness was foreboding, Sam expected every shadow to conceal another monstrosity. Eventually they arrived in what appeared to be the main room of the ruins. Sam paused in the doorway and looked around. Statues lined the walls, parts of the ceiling had caved in, revealing some of the sunlight outside. Sam slowly entered the room, but as soon as he stepped down, he felt part of the floor give way.

"TRAP!" He yelled as he tackled Tamlen out of the way just in time to dodge a blast of flame. He rolled to his feet as several spiders, disturbed by his yelling and the light of the fire, charged at them. Tamlen rolled into a kneeling position and grabbed his bow off the ground. He'd drawn and fired in the blink of an eye and one of the spiders skidded to a halt. Sam spun his body to build up momentum for a powerful uppercut that cleaved through the next spider. He continued the motion and planted his axe into the brain of a second spider. He felt Tamlen at his back, fending off another of the eight-legged monsters. A fourth spider leaped at Tamlen, who bashed it to the side with his shield before impaling it with his sword. Sam brandished his Dal'Thanaan, scanning for more spiders, but all he saw and heard were the retreating footsteps of the animals.

They cautiously pressed forward, careful to avoid any more traps. A little deeper into the ruin they found a large statue honoring a god from the ancient elven pantheon. Neither knew enough about the history of their people to guess who is was, or why ancient elves appeared to have lived in this human ruin. Opposite the statue was a short hallway leading to a large door.

"No _this_ looks important," Sam said as he started to walk towards the door. He hadn't even taken two steps when some sort of magical enchantment was was triggered. A rune glowed on the floor, and suddenly he could hear unholy moans and wails coming from both sides of the main hallway. He spun and saw several... skeletons? Tamlen had already notched an arrow and let it loose into the eye socket of one of the corpses. The force of the blow knocked the skull from the rest of the body – definitely reanimated skeletons.

"Looks like someone wants to die _again_," Sam muttered to himself as he charged three coming from the opposite direction. Seeing that the undead couldn't survive without their heads, Sam took a heavy swing at the skeletons are they closed. The blow cleanly took the head off the first, and cut deep into the side of the second. Sam delivered a powerful kick to the skeleton's torso to dislodge his axe, shattering several of its ribs in the process. As his spun away from the stunned monster, he caught the blade of the other with the handle of his axe, effectively deflecting the blow. He followed through with a blow from the end of his Dal'Thanaan which shattered the ancient skull. The skeleton collapsed at his feet. By this time the wounded skeleton had recovered and pressed its attack from behind him. He wasn't quite fast enough to dodge the blow and felt a familiar sting as the blade bit into his left bicep. He used his axe to sweep the skeleton's legs, breaking both of its shin bones in the process. He finally finished it by crushing its skull beneath his boot.

Gasping for breath, he turned to see Tamlen slam the last skeleton into the wall with his shield at its throat. The force of the blow decapitated the beast and its again lifeless body slumped to the floor. "Animated... corpses?" Tamlen asked between ragged breaths. "What kind of dark magic is this?"

"I don't know, lets see what's on the other side of this door and get out of here." Sam warily approached the door and pushed it open. Inside was a circular room, housing nothing besides a large silver mirror in the center of the room. It sat on a granite pedestal, and unlike anything else in the ruins they had passed, it looked to be in perfect condition. Tamlen moved closer.

"What is it?" Sam asked from right behind him.

"I... something moved in there!" Tamlen continued walking towards it, practically touching it. "Its showing me things, places."

"Get away from it!" Sam warned. Nothing good ever came from messing with enchanted items. This is how all the worst stories began.

"Oh no! It saw me!" Tamlen was nearly screaming at this point. "HELP! I CAN'T LOOK AWAY!"

Sam tried to run over and grab Tamlen, but the mirror emitted a burst of energy that blasted him backwards off the pedestal. He hit the ground hard, and did not get back up.

* * *

"Wait," Duncan suddenly stopped dead in front of Troy. He looked around, as though he were staring through the trees that surrounded them. "Something has happened. I can sense the darkspawn taint. It's coming from that direction. We need to investigate this. If the darkspawn have moved this far north and east... no, it can't be the horde. The taint is not strong enough. Come, its this way."

Troy hurried to keep up as Duncan quickened his pace. Within ten minutes at a light jog even he could tell something was wrong in the forest. He heard no animal sounds, the air was too still, and the smell was getting worse by the step. Dane was also uneasy, whining and sniffing the air. Troy tried to calm the dog as he continued to follow Duncan. After another five minutes he noticed a dark cave in the cliff face not far ahead. He pointed it out to Duncan, who nodded and headed that way. They hadn't gone far in when Troy noticed him. An elf, half crawling half dragging himself towards them. The elf's tan skin looked pale somehow. As he and Duncan approached, the elf reached for the large battleaxe strapped to his back and started muttering in his language. As they grew closer he got up on his knees and locked his steel gray eyes with Troy's.

"Shhemleh, come no closh-" His head bobbed for a second before he looked back up, his eyes wide in alarm. "TAMLEN!" He screamed before collapsing into a heap on the ground. Troy started to move forward, but Duncan's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Don't. He has contracted the taint somehow." Duncan walked over to the elf and bent down, scooping him up. "If I'm not mistaken his camp is this way, due east of here. We will leave him there, in the care of his Keeper."

* * *

Sam woke with a start. He searched the room quickly, disorientated. Finally he realized he was in the Keeper's aravel. He pulled himself out of the bed, feeling a little weak. Stumbling to his feet, he opened the door and stepped out into the blinding sunlight. Fenarel was waiting just outside.

"Lethallin, you're awake! How do you feel?" The concern in his voice made Sam uneasy. Why would Fenarel be this worried unless...

"I'm fine, what happened to Tamlen?" It was the only explanation, Tamlen was either dead or dying... or missing.

"You... you don't know where he is either? The shem who brought you here said he hadn't seen Tamlen. He was a Grey Warden, and appeared out of nowhere with you slung over his shoulder. He said you probably wouldn't survive the night, the Keeper's been using the old magic to heal you."

"I must speak with her at once!" Sam knew Tamlen didn't have much time. If it had taken old magic to keep him from dying... he couldn't imagine Tamlen surviving much longer without it.

"It is good to see you awake, Da'len," The Keeper spoke as she approached. "It is fortunate Duncan found you when he did. I know not what dark power held you, but it nearly bled the life from you."

"Then Tamlen probably has it worse than I did, he actually touched the mirror..."

"A mirror caused all this? Duncan said there might be darkspawn creatures in the cave, is that true?"

"No, just giant spiders and animated skeletons."

"I was hoping for some answers when you woke, but there are only more questions. And Tamlen is still missing... he is more important than any lore in those ruins."

"Then I need to go back!"

"Duncan returned to the cave to look for darkspawn, but we cannot rely on him to look for Tamlen as well. Do you feel well enough to show us the way, Da'len?"

"I'm fine," Sam spoke with more certainty than he felt. In truth, he could still feel something... foreign in his blood, boiling.

"Take Merrill with you to the cave, find Tamlen if you can but do it swiftly. The Clan is moving at nightfall."

"Then I'd better get going." Sam left and went over to where Fenarel was waiting and motioned for him to follow. He knew he'd need all the help he could get. The two approached Merrill at the edge of the camp.

"The Keeper says I am to accompany you," Merrill said as they drew near, "As her apprentice I may see something you missed. Of course our main priority is finding Tamlen. We must make haste, he may not have much time."

"Come on, it will take some time to get there," Sam said as he started walking off. "And Fenarel is coming with us, trust me, we'll need him."

As he sprinted through the forest, Sam could feel the boiling in his blood calling him closer to the source, guiding him to the cave. Even if he hadn't had the route memorized, he would have easily found it, and that worried him. They were nearly upon the cave when he saw the darkspawn... or what he assumed to be darkspawn. They fit the description he'd heard in every story. Twisted and evil, carrying brutal, makeshift weapons and armor. He could sense them as he drew closer, sense the evil pouring out of them. He paused at a ridge line overlooking the small group, drawing his bow and taking aim at the fearsome creatures. A quick nod to Fenarel and two of the beasts lay dead, arrows sticking out from throats and chests. Merrill launched several magical blasts at another darkspawn, freezing it in a solid block of ice then casting a second spell to shatter it. Sam drew his Dal'Thanaan to cover the other two while they continued to rain death down on the enemy from afar. The short creatures attempted to swarm him, but with Merrill and Fenarel providing support he never faced more than two at a time. He planted the blade of his axe into the head of one and viciously lashed out with his foot at another, dislocating its jaw and knocking it flat on its back. He wrenched the axe free and brought it down into the chest of the downed darkspawn. One of the beasts jerked to a halt mere feet from him clutching at an arrow in its throat, and another was consumed with fire. Sam bellowed a war cry and charged the two remaining darkspawn, who fled. One dropped with a arrow in its back but the other escaped back into the ruins.

"Were those... darkspawn?" Merrill asked.

"I guess so," Sam replied looking at the ugly creatures.

"Are you alright, Sam?" Asked Fenarel, concern lining his face.

"You do look really pale," Merrill added.

"Its nothing," Sam grunted, "Come on we need to find Tamlen."

* * *

Troy had heard legends of the Grey Warden's fighting prowess, but seeing it in person was something else entirely. Duncan fought elegantly, yet at the same time there was a fierceness that not even the darkspawn could match. Even three on one the darkspawn were getting slaughtered, and the man kept going. Troy was broken from his thoughts by another small darkspawn charging in from behind them. He quickly side-stepped, knocking the creature's blade aside with his off-hand dagger while he drove his sword through its useless armor. He ripped up with the blade as he yanked it out, tearing an even bigger hole in the center of the monster's chest. It fell without a sound. Duncan was already pushing forward and Troy ran over to give him a hand. As he ran, he sheathed his dagger and pulled out one of his knives. He'd practiced with throwing knives for years and was equally good at throwing them with his right hand as he was with his main hand. He leaped into the thick of combat and launched the knife, catching a darkspawn archer in the throat. He already had a second knife in his hand as he landed and shoved it up through another darkspawn's jaw and into its brain. Behind him Duncan caught a larger darkspawn's sword between his two crossed blades and delivered a swift kick to its midsection before driving a sword into its torso. Troy could hear Dane barking and growling from behind him as the dog charged down another darkspawn.

Troy noticed they had fought their way through the ruins into a room with a strange mirror. He took the high ground on the steps leading up to the mirror as he continued to cut down the monsters. He noticed one of the larger darkspawn coming at Duncan from behind and without even thinking, threw his dagger across the room, where it stuck into the beast's side. The darkspawn was knocked off balance and slowed enough for Duncan to spin in time, parry its attack and decapitate it with his dagger in one smooth motion. Three new figures suddenly burst through the door. One fired off an arrow at Troy, who had just enough time to see it before jumping to the side. As he hit the ground, Troy noticed the familiar white hair of the elf he and Duncan had found earlier. The elf looked fearsome; blood spattered, tattoos covering his face, his white hair shaved into a mohawk, and carrying one of the largest battleaxes Troy had ever seen.

"Watch your fire!" He called as he got to his feet. A quick scan of the room revealed the darkspawn threat had been eliminated. He would hate to die by friendly fire after surviving all that. Dane was growling at the intruders, but made no move to attack.

"Fenarel, stand down," The elf ordered.

"You are the young elf we found at the cave entrance, I'm surprised to see you up and about," Duncan held out his hand, "I am Duncan of the Grey Wardens."

"Sam," Came the curt reply, suspicion evident in his eyes. Grudgingly he took the offered hand. "This is Merrill, Keeper's apprentice, and Fenarel, a fellow hunter."

"I'm Troy, but the way," Troy said somewhat sheepishly, somewhat angrily from behind Duncan as he walked up. "Grey Warden in training."

"Your Keeper didn't send you after us did she? I told her we would be fine"

"We're here for our clansman, Tamlen. He was with me when we first found the mirror," Sam said as he surveyed the two humans and the hound. The Keeper had only mentioned the one shem, likely this Duncan. Where had this other one been while Duncan was at the camp?

"There is no one here but darkspawn I'm afraid," Duncan replied somberly. "Your clansman is likely dead. This mirror, the Grey Wardens have seen similar artifacts before. It is Tevinter in origin. Sometimes they simply... break, and become filled with the same taint as the darkspawn. Tamlen's touch released the taint, infecting both of you."

"Then we must destroy it, so it can never harm anyone else again," Sam replied, taking a step toward it.

"But the Keeper has cured the sickness, we have nothing to fear from this mirror," Merrill pointed out.

"No, it is not cured Merrill," Sam glanced back at her, "I can still feel it in my blood, that's why I looked so sick when we encountered the darkspawn. It gets worse the closer I get to the mirror."

"Yes, we must deal with the mirror, it is a danger." Duncan turned, walked past Troy and approached the mirror, drawing his sword as he went. As soon as he was close enough Duncan brought the sword crashing down into the mirror, sending tiny pieces everywhere. "It is done, let us leave this place. I must speak with the Keeper about your cure."

* * *

While Duncan spoke with the Marethari, Sam went to speak with Paivel, the clan's storyteller, about Tamlen's funeral. They had no body to return to the earth, but Paivel still said the final prayers to guide Tamlen's spirit. Troy watched in fascination. Everything he had learned about the Dalish suggested they were savage warriors without hearts. The evidence clearly contradicted those assumptions. After the brief ceremony Sam came back to the campfire and sat across from where Troy was sitting with Dane sprawled across his lap.

Sam stared at the human and hound. He knew little of human culture, but understood that the Mabari were held in very high regard. It seemed odd that shems would value any animal in that way, as an equal, a friend. The stories of his people always spoke of how humans asserted their dominance over creatures, from livestock to beasts of burden. He felt the need to express these thoughts, but instead sat silently watching the pair. The silence seemed to drag on for an age until Duncan and the Keeper finally emerged from the aravel and came over to the campfire..

"Da'len," Marethari began, looking sad, "It appears Duncan was correct. The sickness is still within you and there is nothing my magic can do to stop it."

"There is, however, a solution," Duncan continued. "Join the Grey Wardens and you will learn to master the taint. It will not be an easy life, and you will have to leave your clan. In the end, the choice is up to you."

"Is there no other way, Keeper?" Sam searched her eyes for answers, but found none. "Must I leave the clan?"

"You will always be part of our clan, Da'len. But no, there is no other way."

"Then I accept. I will join you, Duncan of the Grey Wardens."

"Then come, let the clan embrace you one last time before you leave us." Marethari led Sam away from the two humans.

Troy watched silently, absentmindedly scratching behind Dane behind his ears. While the people around him were certainly foreign in their own ways, he saw nothing to suggest that the Dalish and his own people couldn't coexist. The Dalish certainly were not the boogeymen many humans believed them to be. The farewell was a short affair, and soon Troy, Sam and Duncan were on the road again.

"Ostagar is less than a day away," Duncan was saying from up ahead. "We can make it most of the way there before we stop for the night, and get there by mid-morning. The other recruits will be awaiting our arrival and we must commence with the Joining that night. After that, you will officially be Grey Wardens or..."

Troy and Sam shared a glance. Neither liked the way Duncan left the sentence hanging but neither really had a choice. At least that was something they had in common.


End file.
